A Day in the Dreams of Ronald Weasley
by vlad the inhaler
Summary: Sometimes, from a different point of view, one story becomes two.
1. Chapter 1

"Harry... mate, time to wake up." Harry opened his eyes, blinking stupidly before reaching for his glasses. As his vision focused, he looked upon the shock of red hair of his best mate, smirking down on him. "Don't wanna sleep away the first day of classes, whatever would the greasy git do without us?" Nodding tiredly while hiding a final yawn, Harry trudged behind, grateful for such a good friend.

Ron walked down the stairs to the great hall, his elegant robes swirling majestically beneath him. A fluke in the wizarding registration office had revealed that Ronald Weasley was actually the direct heir of several prominent families, a most odd occurrence given that none of his other siblings benefited from this happy turn of events. Naturally, Ron had shared the wealth generously with all his friends and family, only bequeathing unto himself a few of life's finer necessities. Even without the new robes and two foot wand, his handsome figure would have made quite a sight. Now... _majestic _wasn't quite strong enough.

"Ron! Ron!" Dozens of breathy, feminine voices broke out as he entered the hall, his face breaking out into a roughish grin. "Ronald.. I have a problem," a panting Hermione grabbed his bicep, pushing close as she whispered into his ear. Clearly, she was in such a rush she had been unable to dress properly this morning, the top of her robe carelessly undone. "I... I didn't finish the summer homework – honestly, I have no idea what a Thestral's hoof-rot does in respect to the Confundus Potion."

"'Mione, take a deep breath, it'll be alright." Smiling, but not mentioning her blush at his use of his private nickname for her, Ron continued. "Clearly, it does nothing important if it's not in the book, and ol' Batface is just being his usual pain in the arse!"

"Oh Ron, of course! How could I not think of that?" Hermione's initial excitement gave way to embarrassed anguish. Knowing how sensitive his bushy haired friend was when her intelligence was questioned, he let her down easy. "'Mione, nobody knows everything. Bloody hell, there must be dozens of facts out there – you can only know so much." Hermione giggled, relieved.

Crisis averted, Ron sat down at the head of the Gryffindor table as Lavender and Parvati finished putting his breakfast on his plate. Thanking the two, he began to eat his bacon with a quiet elegance that made the rest of the table resemble starving monkeys. Swallowing, he asked offhandedly, "So Lav, looking forward to divination again this year?" Ronald of course had exempted the course, given his natural inner eye, but Lavender was a sweet girl, and eager to please. Huskily, she responded, "I may not be as good as you yet, but I'm certainly going to do my best. It's amazing, what you can see when you really... _see. _You know?" Ron nodded casually, though noted the stormy features crossing Hermione's face as Lavander, and Parvati too, had wiggled forward, practically dripping from Ron. Without a pause, Lavender continued, "of course, I could always use a little private tutoring. Are you available say tonight, in the astronomy tower."

"I'm sorry Lav, but as Head Boy, I can't possible condone meeting out of hours in a place with such a... questionable negotiation." At Lavender's crestfallen expression, Ron continued, "however... if you'd like to have some one on one time in the library, say, at six – I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem."

Lavender, Hermione, and Ron beamed. Hermione knew that Ron was being both responsible and an honest boyfriend, Lavender knew being one of Ron's many mistresses was the best she could hope for in life, and Ron knew 'Library at Six' was code for 'Greenhouse Two at Noon.'

Breakfast passed without any further disturbances, save McGonnagal passing out the year's schedules. Naturally, as sixth year students, Ron was taking seventy-four NEWTS. Dumbledore has questioned his enthusiasm at the end of term, especially given his Quidditch Captaincy, Year early Head Boy position, and special volunteer of the Auror Forces, but in the end a compromise had been reached, with Dumbledore agreeing to allow Ron exclusive use of both a time turner and a magic trunk for training. Not that there had ever been any doubt...

"Well well.. I see that some of you did manage to pass your owls somehow. We'll see just who really earned a place in this class." Snape's grimace became especially... grim... when he eyed Weasley and Potter. The Bloody Wonder Duo... He'd begged Dumbledore to not let Weasley in, despite having the highest potion score in a century. It was infuriating, to be mocked every class by the most talented student he'd ever come across. This year though... this year, Snape was ready.

"Potter, what and where would I collect the chief ingredient of the nose shriveling potion?" Snape smirked as Potter blustered uselessly and ever Granger was too cowed to raise her hand. Sighing dramatically, he sneered, "Weasley, let's see if you can help out your lesser half. Any ideas?" Snape's smirk was especially smug – the answer was a state secret as well as a recent discovery. "Easy, you great ponce – any liquid designed to shrivel one's nose could be collected easily enough from the top of your greasy head."

Snape paused, the ponce comment flying over his head. Turning white, he demanded, "How do you know that Weasley. That's a state secret – I'll have you for treason. And twenty points!" Ron jumped up, his cheerful disposition replaced by a look of intense concentration. "Expulsus!" In a second, every other student in the room was carried swiftly out the dungeons by a magical wind, leaving only Ron and Snape. "Revealo." A moment later, the room was filled with shocked deatheaters as the inviability spell fell.

"I knew it the moment you asked the question, Snape. Ask a state secret, have me accused of treason, and when I left, murder a room full of school children, including a now friendless boy-who-lived! Well, it didn't work. EXPELLIARMUS!"

With one spell, one hundred and four wands shot into Ron Weasley's open left fist. A moment later, one hundred and four bodies were tied up on the floor, damasked and paralyzed in fear. Without a moments hesitation, Ron left the room. He needed to talk to Dumbledore – there wasn't a better lieutenant out there.

Appearing in the Headmaster's office five minutes later, Ron was surprised to several members of the order there as well. Fleur, Tonks, Vance, Fleur's cousin, Fleur's other cousin... "Hello ladies" Ron said with a wink, causing all those present to shuffle their feet and blush prettily. Serious once more, he turned to Dumbledore. "What's going on."

Dumbledore turned to Ron, his eyes serious. "All these young ladies suddenly felt as if you were in grave danger and came at once to my office. From the sudden clamor of terrified students in the Great Hall, I fear something has happened." Ron nodded. "S'why I came up here. Death Eaters broke into the dungeons – Snape's help obviously." Ron sighed at the look of distraught on Dumbledore's face. "Professor... Albus. We all make mistakes. I appreciate your wisdom, you know this, but I can't help but say I told you so. Currently Snape is restrained, but he will have to go...for good."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I can see this is the case. Forgive an old man." Ron smiled, "there is nothing to forgive."

"Eeenuf! Eeet eez not eemportant at zees moment! Ronald, you are... you are fine, I hope." Fleur asked, her voice an odd mix of worry, affection, and hopeless lust.

"I'm fine Fleur. And speaking of which, I'm officially signing with the Cannons next week, I trust you'll make it to my party afterwards." Fleur's sigh was only slightly less dramatic than Tonks' low growl... at least until a wink and an invitation put that to rest.

"Ronald, I fear there is more to it. I have been looking through many tomes and archives, and I fear that Voldemort will launch more than just a one off raid. I believe he intends to attack with his main force."

Ron grinned, and a moment later Ron and Dumbledore were the only two people in the room not suffering from a bout of fainting. "This attack, wouldn't consist of say, one hundred and four death eaters, led by Malfoy, Lestrange, and Rookwood, would it?"

Dumbledore gaped, how could Ronald know that? He had hardly attained half that information after weeks of intense study. "I believe you will find Professor, that the raid in the dungeons was hardly a one off ambush." Together, they shared a mighty laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Ron left the headmaster's office, leaving his second in command to enervate the women and dispatch with the paralyzed death eaters in the dungeons. Ron sighed... the hardest task was yet to come.

As Ron entered the great hall, he was soon swamped by admirers. A rainbow of blue, yellow, and crimson swarmed around him, clamoring for details of what had transpired since he had removed them from the dungeon. In the far corner, a small huddle of green clad students made themselves as small as possible – even from this distance Ron could easily make out the terror clearly visible on their faces.

However, Ron had no time for the swarms of adoring fan girls (funny, how even with all the magical world had produced, no one had ever come up with a charm to keep robes in place when they were trampled by other squealing bodies.

"Harry, mate – you alright?" Ron pushed through the adoring crowd, making his way over to Harry, who was standing away from the rest of the students, a tight smile on his face. "Yeh Ron... I'm fine. Just... just wish... nah, forget it Ron." A forced smile. "How was it, fighting the Death Wankers."

"Harry...Harry..." Ron shook his head, pulling his long time friend to the side. "It's more than that, innit? I've known you a long time, no reason to hold back on me now."

For a moment, Harry paused. Then, in an instant, years of pent up resentment came pouring out.

"Blood hell Ron. I'm the boy-who-lived. Remember when I first came here? People couldn't stop gawking like I was the bloody hero. Now... now I'm just a sidekick."

Ron nodded, unsure what to say. He had long suspected that Harry was dissatisfied with his yearly decline in the house, but hadn't realized just how bad it was. Ruefully, he sighed. It was one thing dealing with Harry during his moods, but in this case, his friends low self esteem was only complicated matters_. _How many times had Ron told Harry just how wonderful a friend he was? How valuable to the trio he was? How... well not roguishly handsome, that was a description fit for one man only, but a decent enough looking bloke?

"It's always bloody you Ron. Remember fourth year, before the ball?" Ron nodded, unsure where Harry was going. "I went up to Chang and said I had a question for her, and she just blurted out, 'Ron wants me to go to the ball with him?' And if that wasn't enough... Fifth year – I finally thought something was about _me_, just Harry... but no. _Born to those that thrice defied him... his greatest friend shall lead the world to goodness._ Everything Ron, everything is about _you."_

The Great Hall had quieted during this rant, an eerie silence falling as Harry finished. Looking around at the angry faces aimed in Harry's direction, Ron put an arm around his friend, steering him out of the hall and down the main corridor, coming to a stop and pulling him into an empty classroom.

"Harry... I don't know where to begin... well, actually I do." Harry looked up, grief stricken. He hadn't meant to hurt Ron, but somethings needed to be said. Would Ron give up on him now? Despite the callous words, he had come to depend on Ron for... for everything really. If Ron gave up on him now... Fortunately, it was a foolish thought, for Ron never gave up on those he called his friends. His word, after all, was his most valuable possession. Even more so than his private Quidditch team.

"I know you think you've had it rough. But I'd give _anything _to be in your position. Bollocks mate, I may have foiled Old Voldy's most dastardly plans with my cunning and skill, but I've never beaten him out of sheer dumb luck, and you were only a baby at the time!" Ron grinned, relieved when he got a small chuckle from Harry. Then, somberly, he continued. "I'd give anything to be in your shoes mate – to have had that fame and fortune without having to lift a finger... but I had to work for mine, and wait for a fluke in the registration office. And yeah, I've got a great family who all look up to me, and more girls throwing themselves at me than I know what to do with... but you had a chocolate frog card by the time you were three, so I think we're even, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, though more easily, less grudgingly. "I want you to know Ron, I'm not really angry at you... I mean how could I be, given how amazingly generous and smart and terrific and... well not to sound a bit camp, but you're perfect."

"Well, yes, I suppose," Ron responded, looking down in modesty. "But hey, we're a team and always have been. Remember first year? If you hadn't mucked up which square you were supposed to land on, I'd never have seen the checkmate three moves later. And second year? I don't think I could've asked you to have been in a better position to take that memory charm meant for me."

Harry looked down, equal parts pleased and embarrassed. "Wasn't anything Ron... bloody hell, Lockhart's charm didn't do anything but tickle. Useless prat."

Ron shrugged, realizing perhaps his best friend needed a bit of an ego boost. "Mate, it wasn't _nothing. _It doesn't matter if the charm didn't work, it _could _have. Without you as a human shield, I might have been lost down there, and then who would have rescued Ginny and the entire Holyhead Harpies from Voldemort?"

Harry puffed out his chest proudly. "Well, I do what I can. You'd be bloody lost without me Ron. Don't worry though" he added with an exaggerated wink, "I won't be sharing with your girls who the _real _brains of the operations is."

The mood having cleared considerably, the two once-again-amicable friends strolled out of the classroom, only to be immediately confronted by clearly terrified yet equally clearly determined group of Slytherins.

"Potty head, ...Sir..." Draco ground out, a mix between his usual drawl and terror riddled determination, "I'm going to get you for what you did to my father. We all are." Hesitantly, the crowd of three thousand Slytherins nodded in unison.

Ron rolled his eyes. _Bloody typical._


End file.
